The cutest in medical terminology

I broke my toe. It's the first bone I've ever broken. It hurt and it turned all blue. It is the second from the left on my left foot. My "ring toe," as you might call it. I wouldn't call it that, though, because I mean when am I ever gonna wear a ring on my toe, you know?

Well I don't know if you've heard, but there isn't much they will do for your broken toe if you go to the hospital. Even WebMD admits it, and usually they are great at convincing you a muscle cramp is leprosy and a cold is lupus (who agrees with me that WebMD is a scam to try to get more people to go to the doctor?).

Figure 12: It's never lupus

Instead, they recommend the cutest-sounding medical procedure on the books: the "buddy tape." This is the process of taping your broken toe to the toe next to it, so they can be "buddies" (I got a certified nurse's assistant to help me with this part; as far as I can recall it went something like this).

Naturally I spent the day imagining the fun times my "ring" and middle toes were having together now that they were buddies. In my mind my toes were like two adorable kittens that had been taped to one another.

Figure 12: What my full complement of left-foot toes would look like if they were five adorable kittens duct-taped together

The only downside to the buddy tape is it made it hurt less to walk, so I wasn't able to limp around and pretend I was House anymore.

Figure 12: Never forget

I don't know what happened

I was trying to do some schoolwork when all the sudden my scanner went to work on the box from some novelty salt and pepper shakers my brother got me for Christmas and my photoshop opened and then this happened:

I never thought this would happen to me.

Figure 12: I have a tail now

I swear to god it was an accident. I never planned it out this way. If I could turn back time, maybe things would be different. Nobody can live a life without regrets, you know, and if I could choose just one thing to change over all these years so various and full of detail, I'd never have accidentally grown this tail.

Look, I understand if you don't want to be my friend anymore. I mean, I have a tail now. Things are gonna be different. I can accept that. I got no one to blame but myself. I let my guard down, you know? God help me but I let my guard down, and now I have a tail.

I thank you all in advance for your continued support/condolences as I ponder my next course of action. Certain tails are reversible, but that's pretty much only in the movies. I'm afraid this one may have reached a certain "escape velocity," so to speak, and has now doomed me to a life of sitting in ever higher chairs to keep my tail from brushing the ground. I hate high chairs.

Don't cry for me. Don't you dare. You have a wonderful head of hair with all the correct protuberances befitting. Don't waste this gift. Sometimes the Lord will open a window, and another window will open out into a door with a window, but sometimes when He closes a window He opens a window. It's like, you can see the Universe in that window. Its like, there were two footprints in some places but in others there was a third footstep, but only the third footstep was just a faint dragging line, because all along my tail was behind me, and now it is all sandy. And it's like in each grain of sand is a whole entire Universe, and in each Universe is a man, a man who has accidentally grown a tail. There is a place for us, though. Dont you cry. Don't you cry tonight. For everywhere a child is mesmerized by the ever-rising spiral of the classic barber's pole, I will be there. Everywhere a man walks into Great Clips not looking like Bob Saget but walks out looking just like Bob Saget, I will be there. Every time a woman tells her hairdresser to make her look like Jennifer Aniston, but then she doesn't, I will be there. No, don't cry for me. As sure as "two bits" must follow "shave and a haircut," as sure as each day somebody responds "all of them" to "did you get your hair cut," as sure as even the most unobservant man happens once in a blue moon to guess correctly when asked if he "notices anything different about me," I will be there, my glorious tail fluttering majestically in the breeze behind me, the mane of the mightiest lion, the tail of the mightiest ass.

Know this: the mightiest ass is me, dear reader. And this is my tail.

Dear would-be guacamole makers who don't have any lemon or lime juice but DO have some frozen lemonade concentrate,

Listen: I had an avocado, and some chips, so naturally I figured I'd make me a little guac. Now I know everybody's got a way to make it, but for me it is mainly a matter of avocados and salt. Sure, if I have some garlic I'll put that in there, some cilantro or some sour cream or even some tomatoes or onions or something. But I had none of that on hand. The one thing I thought I did have was some lemon or lime juice, which I like for guacamole, because it makes it not turn brown so fast (I think maybe this has to do with.. science...?). This is where my terrible mistake happened. I had no lemon juice, but I had a little lemonade concentrate in the freezer (you know, to make lemonade with). I thought, sure, it's sweet, but it also has lemon juice, right? So if I just use a little it won't be so bad?

Fuckin' WRONG, my friends. That shit tasted like lemon cupcakes. It was so gross, even my pride (which makes me eat just the most awful shit if I'm the one who cooked it) made it so I could only dip like four chips in there and tell myself it wasn't that bad before myself was like, it IS that bad, and I just threw that bullshit away.

DON'T DO IT.

Sincerely,
Matty Lite

I dropped my phone in a puddle.

Why did I do that? Now it doesn't work. If you call me I won't answer, because my phone is like a homeless man in Seattle: broke and recently in a puddle.